Thanksgiving really did it for me this year. For the first time in a while it was one of those Thanksgivings that really drives home precisely what the holiday is about---in short, how amazing life is and how many really good people we're lucky enough to be surrounded by. Sounds hokey, but its true and sometimes I just need a good shaking to be reminded of it. In this case, I'd planned this whole epic pioneer style Thanksgiving where I'd managed to get all three cabins at Malakoff Diggins State Park up near Nevada City. Franklin and I stayed in one a few years ago and it was great, super rustic with an awesome woodburning stove. Our plan was to leave Wednesday after work, get in late and grab a (hopefully) empty cabin and then wake up with the place to ourselves Thanksgiving Day and start cooking as people made their way up. Snafu number one hit with a blowout on Highway 80.
Franklin did a masterful job of getting us off the road without being slammed by the cars speeding along behind us. Apparently I'd never thought about whether Baby Blue has hazard lights. I now know that she does not. Put on the spare and headed on our way, arriving at Malakoff Diggins near midnight. Snafu number two: all the cabins were locked with signs saying they were closed for the winter due to unsafe conditions. Gave us something to ponder as we drove the 45 minutes back to Nevada City.
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Thanksgiving Day
Woke early and tried calling a few different numbers but, it being a major holiday, no one was to be found. Rationalized to ourselves on the drive back up that a Ranger would definitely have the reservation info and would swing by and unlock the cabins before leaving for the day, we were less than joyous in finding on our arrival that everything was still locked up and with no Ranger in sight. We did, however, find a very nice man named Frank who lives on the grounds and led us to an equally nice man named Sonny who was the maintenance person. Both seemed completely taken aback by our news and told us the cabins had been closed for weeks. Its about 10:30 at this point and I've told everyone to meet us around 1:00...meaning they're all leaving the city and I'm without cell phone reception and watching all my carefully laid plans crumble like day old cornbread. The crux of the problem is that Sonny can't unlock anything without talking to a supervisor (0h, Park Service) and it is of course a holiday so getting somebody on the horn isn't likely. I'm trying not to freak out, just kind of rolling with everything and figuring we'll cook outside as planned, then deal with where to sleep...with 15 people that I've drum-majorette-d excitement into with the prospect of woodfires and $10 camping...all of whom are bringing a ton of food and not a single tent. Just when I'm feeling like I've really gone too far with this one and I'm not dragging anyone anywhere ever again, Sonny gets a lady named Jane on the phone for me to talk to. Like Sonny and Frank, she is awesome. She apologizes profusely, tells me Sonny will open the cabins but we can't use the stoves because they're condemned, so come night fall its going to get really cold. In lieu of this she offers to put us up in one of the funky little houses a couple yards away which, though slightly overrun with mice and furnished with nothing but frat house couches, has a furnace we can turn on and ample floor space for us all. Sonny and Frank offer to dig out the firepits and stack extra wood for us to use. They're great.
A pot of homemade chili starts simmering and we get to work making ourselves at home.
Thanksgiving is saved.
With a well stocked bar.
Things are swell, cider is warmed and the kids start trickling in.
Naturally the first order of the day revolves around the Red Ryders.
Bandy of course brings a handgun to a shotgun party.
Craig brought up a turkey he'd wrapped in a million layers of tin foil and wire and buried it in hot coals.
Frankie and I grabbed an already smoked bird and threw it on a spit.
Koperski splits kindling like a proper woodsman.
Out came the moon.
And turkey number one.
A feast if ever there was one. Potatoes big and small, corn on the cob, veggie chili, cornbread muffins, tender greens, pumpkin soup, ham with jalepenos and pork loin with pomegranate glaze, not to mention all sorts of herbed butters and sides and at least four different pies.
Toasts are made and the first round of eating commences.
Craig's turkey is still blazing away, but not for long.
Turkey number two. The second round begins.
Whiskey, tunes, discussions of politics and the ring around the moon make for a happy campfire under a starry sky, til bit by bit people slink off down the road to giggle themselves to bed.
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Day 2
Woke to the pounding rain and dormitory sounds. Coffee and leftovers for breakfast, then a clean up of camp and the beginning goodbyes.
A stroll through town before taking off.
Clampers everywhere. Probably the only reason I'm jealous of manhood.
To be able to sift through all those bottles...the saloon looked pretty pleasant as well.
Headed down to road to Hiller Tunnel, which Franklin and I climbed through once before.
This time the rain beat us to it.
Like-minded adventurers.
Found some abandoned buildings to poke around in.
Great old linoleum floors.
The Diggins---hydraulic mining at its finest. Hard to think these craters were hills once.
Back down the winding road through the fog, to another of our favorite spots.
Shuffleboard and $3 Bloody Marias at the Willo.
Yours truly was unbeatable all three games and earned the nickname "The Champ". I think I've found my new sport.
On to The National Hotel for showers and grub. I admire this plaque in the parking lot every time we're there.
Having planned in advance I'd requested one of the suites, which turned out to be even more amazing than I'd hoped.
Our bed was the size of my first apartment.
I love this place.
Dinner and drinks and the party begins again.
The doctor is in.
Hilarity follows.
Somehow it came about that if you wanted to enter the room you had to do so as a booted human wheelbarrow.
That may have been the funniest thing I've seen in a long, long time.
A trip to the Mine Shaft then back for more in-house comraderie. Whiskey and sentimentality, peanut buttered pepperoncinis and late night talks. I can't tell you how much I like these people.
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Thanks giving! I've said it a million times, but that was great. Big thanks to Koperski and Lila and Eddie and Rolls and Bandy and Kate Jordan and Crockett and Sondra and Sophia and Andy and Alana and Craig and Ashley for getting psyched and being pioneers in so many ways. I'm so thankful for having people like this in my life and for the ones who couldn't make it on this particular hair-brained field trip, but have jumped headlong into other ones and continue to inspire more to come. I am especially thankful for Franklin, who's always there with a wide range of encouragements (sometimes four-lettered) and the ability to be an exceptional person in the face of so many obstacles. A Plymouth Rock if ever there was one.